


Hypnoctober Day 4

by birdginia



Series: Hypnoctober 2018 [4]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gore, Homicidal Fantasy, Hypnotism, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Mirror Sex, Sadism, Sexual Fantasy, The Great Kirei Corruption Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdginia/pseuds/birdginia
Summary: (prompt - mirror sex)“Like hypnosis,” Kirei says, trying not to sound as questioning as he feels.“Not the way mages refer to it. No magic involved, only my guidance and your own will. Believe me, this isn’t a means to force you into anything.” Gilgamesh raises his glass. “I have other methods, if I wanted that.”Kirei believes him. So he tries.





	Hypnoctober Day 4

“An exercise?”

“In visualization,” Gilgamesh is saying, setting his empty glass on the table. “You seem hesitant to try new things, so simply visualizing it, through my guidance, will give you the space to consider it more thoroughly.”

“And what would I be visualizing, exactly?” Kirei asks, and Gilgamesh only smiles and says, “That’s up to you.”

Kirei sighs. It’s a vague offer, like everything Gilgamesh says, but if it’s as simple as he makes it sound, it seems tame enough. It couldn’t hurt to try and understand Gilgamesh’s thoughts better, if only so he knows exactly what he’s turning away.

So he lets himself be directed to the couch Gilgamesh was only just lounging on, his warmth still settled into the cushions as Kirei lets himself lie there, stiffly, unable or perhaps unwilling to get comfortable. 

“You’re going to need to relax, for this,” Gilgamesh says, now pouring himself a fresh glass. “To let you visualize more clearly, I’m going to put your mind in a state more receptive to my suggestions.”

“Like hypnosis,” Kirei says, trying not to sound as questioning as he feels.

“Not the way mages refer to it. No magic involved, only my guidance and your own will. Believe me, this isn’t a means to force you into anything.” Gilgamesh raises his glass. “I have other methods, if I wanted that.”

Kirei believes him. So he tries.

“Start by taking a breath for me.” 

Kirei does, holds it, lets it go as Gilgamesh tells him to. It’s not unlike meditation, he thinks as Gilgamesh continues, a familiar touchstone that lets him at least attempt to let go of some of his remaining worries. Gilgamesh’s voice is soft, but clear, permeating his thoughts as if he were speaking through the connection with a Master. 

“With each breath you take, you’ll feel more relaxed, more open. Breathing in my words, my will, my suggestions.”

The air feels thicker, almost cloying. The scent of wood, of wine, of Gilgamesh, is heavy in Kirei’s lungs, weighing him down, somehow sinking him further into the couch. At some point, his eyes have slipped shut.

“Now, in your mind’s eye, I want you to create an image. A figure. Perhaps human, perhaps animal, man or woman. Whatever first comes to mind.”

Kirei starts to form something in the darkness, an outline of a person. No distinguishing features, just a silhouette.

“Now, add details to your image. Is it tall? Small? Is she plain, pretty? Is he fat, thin? Clothed, or perhaps not?”

Kirei’s mind produces details almost without his consent—a man, with plain, dark hair. Simple, black clothes. Almost comical in its simplicity, and yet, somehow, recognizably—

“Now, place this creature at your mercy.”

A dusting of stubble at his chin. Dark eyes, dark circles underneath. Eyes looking at Kirei with no discernible expression. Kirei could change that.

“Put them in chains, break their legs, hold a knife to their throat. Any means of putting yourself in control of this pitiful thing.”

Emiya Kiritsugu, on his knees, Black Keys an inch away from his eyes. Eyes that start to fill with terror, with anger, with tears.

“And then, do with them what you will.”

Kirei thrusts a single blade into Kiritsugu’s shoulder, pinning him to an unseen surface. In reality, Kiritsugu would likely fight back, deflect the blow, hold his own gun to Kirei’s chest—but in this realm, Kiritsugu is unarmed and helpless, gasping and shouting at the pain reaching through his shoulder. Here, Kirei has all the time in the world to tear him apart and inspect his insides.

He can barely hear Gilgamesh over the sound of Kiritsugu’s screams, but he can still feel himself being guided, talked through the process of shredding Kiritsugu’s clothes open along with his flesh, exposing his skin and blood to the air. He feels his own deep breaths going shallow and harsh as he reaches inside to feel bone and muscle, watching Kiritsugu’s face twist in agony at the intrusion.

He flips Kiritsugu over, letting blood and viscera spill forward, and Kirei might consider that a waste, if this were the real Kiritsugu. But for now, he can focus on splitting open the taut flesh of his back, watching muscle and sinew spread open for him. The Keys shrink and then disappear entirely, leaving his hands completely without obstacle to pry him further open, feel how warm and wet he is inside. He spreads the blood all across Kiritsugu’s body where it isn’t already torn open, bathing him in red. 

He hears a noise, and then feels his eyes open—but the vision doesn’t disappear. He sees himself, bent over Kiritsugu’s broken form, hands stained in blood. He moves, and watches the other figure of himself move as well, bringing a hand to Kiritsugu’s lips. He watches Kiritsugu, gasping and sobbing, tears leaving clear tracks through the blood on his cheeks, and Kirei watches the blood mix with saliva and tears in his mouth to stain his teeth a dark pink.

Kirei removes his hand, wets his fingers with fresh blood from just to the left of his spine, and then spreads Kiritsugu’s legs. It seems like the logical progression, somehow, reaching his hands deep inside of Kiritsugu in natural as well as new orifices, making him choke on his own moans as well as screams. 

His own robes are forgotten in the corners of his mind, leaving him free to seat himself deep inside of Kiritsugu. He watches Kiritsugu’s face contort as Kirei’s cock inches slowly into him, and he watches his own face slip into pure ecstasy before his eyes roll back. It feels nothing like what he knew of sex, nothing like Claudia, not like a poor attempt at normalcy but rather a feeling so natural and raw that he can’t help but let his own voice out, moaning a name or a prayer or something completely incomprehensible. 

When he finally composes himself enough to open his eyes again, he grabs Kiritsugu by the hair to lift his face into view, shivering at the way he tightens around Kirei in pain. He can’t hold back, doesn’t even feel the need to try, and he thrusts forward, over and over again, fucks into Kiritsugu until tears and blood are falling and staining the couch with every thrust. His grip tightens, he feels bloody clumps of hair in his fist, his own voice starts to drown out Kiritsugu’s and—someone else’s, he thinks there’s someone else here, but—

Kiritsugu goes limp, and his voice suddenly stops, and when Kirei considers what has happened—Emiya Kiritsugu, dying in the arms of his own murderer while being split open on his cock—Kirei’s movements stutter, then stop, everything crashing around him like a wave in a stormy sea, plunging him under so deep he can barely breathe. He shakes through the aftershocks of orgasm, his whole body spasming once, twice, and then fully relaxing, collapsing onto the couch.

Kirei blinks.

He’s on his stomach, one hand in a barely-relaxed death grip on the fabric of a cushion, the other between his legs, feeling a disgusting wetness at the front of his robes.

When he looks up, he sees himself—only himself, framed in elaborate gold ornamentation. A mirror. 

He turns his head, and there’s Gilgamesh, still sitting in the same chair just off to the side. His glass is empty again.

Kirei tries to bring himself to anger, to frustration, to nausea. 

Instead, he sits up, says nothing, and waits for Gilgamesh to leave, as he always does after Kirei cannot respond to an argument.

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw priest guro
> 
> one of the options for this was also dacryphilia but I feel like I didn't go hard enough to justify tagging it with that, whoops.
> 
> my twitter is over at [@Slotheyyyyy](https://twitter.com/Slotheyyyyy). check out my very important thoughts and opinions on fucking, and @ me with any of yours!


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